


An Uncanny Resemblance

by missbecky



Series: When Harry Met Darcy [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't appreciate being reminded that he looks like a certain famous movie star. Doesn't mean he's not above using that fact when it's Eggsy's safety on the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Uncanny Resemblance

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted [on Tumblr](http://missbeckywrites.tumblr.com/post/126051797122/hartwin-fic-an-uncanny-resemblance)

It was something Eggsy had noticed before, of course. Hell, he had seen it almost right away, although it had taken him a few days before he could actually put a name to that nagging feeling of resemblance. But it wasn't until they had been together a couple months that he finally asked.

"Harry," he said. It was a rainy Saturday and they were sitting in a shop, waiting to see if the rain would let up before they ventured out. "Anyone ever tell you you look just like Col—"

At Harry's sharp look, he fell silent. He raised an eyebrow. "Guess so."

Harry did not look amused. "Do you have any idea," he said, "how difficult it can be to maintain your cover when complete strangers come up to you asking for your autograph?"

Eggsy fought hard not to laugh. "Oh, come on," he said. "There's gotta be something good about it."

"No," Harry said coolly. "There is not."

"But just think," Eggsy said. He leaned across the table, getting into it now. "You could get all kinds of neat stuff that way. Mr. Bigshot Actor demanding the fucking red carpet treatment."

Harry shook his head. "That will only work once. And I've yet to find a situation where I need to resort to such…deceit."

That time Eggsy did laugh. "Harry, you're a spy! Deceit is your job."

"Yes," Harry sniffed, "but at least I have standards."

****

It was six months later when they found themselves on a mission in Cannes, on the run from some very bad people, and by then Eggsy had forgotten all about the conversation.

At the moment his mind was on how the fuck they were going to get out of there. The mission had gone tits up almost from the very start, although they had at least acquired the data they had been sent here to retrieve. That was about the only thing that had gone right, though. They had been on the run for the last hour, and for the last twenty minutes they had been on foot through the streets of the city. Harry had lost his glasses, his gun, and his suit jacket when the bad guys had tried to drown them off the pier. Eggsy wasn't sure when he had lost _his_ glasses, but he knew good and well when he'd lost his gun -– when the bad guys had tried shooting him with it.

"Harry." He stumbled, almost fell. The Kingsman suit was great protection against bullets. Not so great against knives when they were being stabbed into your thigh.

"Keep going," Harry urged. He had one arm slung about Eggsy's waist, keeping him upright. They were both still dripping wet, although Eggsy was actually a bit grateful for that; even though it was after sunset, it was still really hot out.

"Yeah," Eggsy murmured. He was starting to feel light-headed from blood loss.

Harry glanced over his shoulder to see if their pursuers were still there. "Shit."

Up ahead there were a lot of bright lights and people clustered up against the night. There was a definite start to the activity, but it seemed to stretch on for ages. Smaller lights went off constantly, and Eggsy blinked and wondered if he was seeing things before he realized they were camera flashes. Oh yeah, he finally remembered. Cannes. Film Festival.

"Come on," Harry said.

They reached the outer edge of the crowd, and almost immediately a security officer in a tuxedo approached them. "I'm sorry," he said. "You can't go through here. You'll have to go around—" He stopped then and did a double take as he got a good look at Harry. "Oh," he said, and suddenly he was the very picture of helpfulness. "Sorry, sir. I didn't recognize you at first."

Eggsy bit his lip. It was probably the light-headedness that made it so funny, watching the security guy fall all over himself because he thought he had just come face to face with someone famous. And no wonder the guy hadn't "recognized" Harry: it wasn't every day that internationally famous film stars suddenly showed up wearing nothing but trousers and a soaking wet dress shirt and sporting scars where some madman had shot them in the head.

Harry drew himself up. "Yes," he said. "Right." He glanced around. "We'll need to get through, of course."

The security officer looked at Eggsy and hesitated. Eggsy just stood there, his arm about Harry, grateful as fuck that the blood from his stab wound didn't show up on his black trousers. He hoped the guy didn't ask them why they looked like they'd just climbed out of the Mediterranean, or worse, offer to escort them himself down the red carpet.

Put on the spot, Harry did his best. "Um, this is my friend," he said. "Or, actually, the co-star of my next film." He lowered his voice like he was about to share something secret. "I'm afraid he's had one too many, however. If you could just let us pass, I would appreciate it enormously. I don't want the paparazzi seeing him this way."

"Of course!" Having been reminded of their common enemy, the security guy stepped aside almost immediately. "Take care, sir."

"Yes, you too," Harry replied absently.

They hurried forward, Eggsy trying his hardest not to limp. As they neared the very end of the red carpet – the place where it actually began – flash bulbs began to go off as the paparazzi who were clustered there sighted them. Eggsy had no idea what they were still doing here, when the celebrities and their entourages had clearly all moved further up the red carpet. They must have hung around here hoping to catch some latecomers to the festival or something.

"Just keep going," Harry murmured.

"Like we got a choice?" Eggsy shot back.

He was very possibly dying from blood loss, they were still being chased by the bad guys, and they had no way of contacting Kingsman -- but Eggsy wasn't so far gone that he didn't enjoy his rather hasty stroll across the red carpet. What the fuck, he figured. He was probably never going to get another chance like that again.

The paparazzi were held back by security, but that didn't stop them from shouting as they snapped their pictures. "Colin! Over here! Who's that with you? Colin!"

Magnificent in his refusal to even look at them, Harry swept Eggsy through the line of security on the other side, and then they were finally free, past the red carpet and the yelling photographers. "Bloody hell," he swore viciously.

"Yeah, but on the bright side, no way the bad guys get past all this," Eggsy offered.

Harry glanced down at him. "Are you all right?"

"Sure," Eggsy said, although he honestly didn't know. His leg hurt like hell and he wasn't at all sure how much farther he could go. Still, the whole situation was so surreal that he couldn't help laughing.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked as he steered them toward a hotel where they could take refuge and find a phone to contact Merlin.

"I just realized," Eggsy said, "you're gonna be your own headline in the Sun tomorrow." He giggled. "So much for only being in the paper three times."

Harry's arm tightened about his waist, pulling him closer. "Yes, well," he said. "Some things are worth it." He gave Eggsy a brief kiss.

"Shoulda done that for the photogs," Eggsy said.

"I should've," Harry said solemnly, and kissed him again.

Eggsy leaned into him, and not just because he could barely stand up now. "Maybe next time, yeah?" he sighed. He let his head drop on Harry's shoulder.

"Maybe next time," Harry agreed, and he could hear the smile in Harry's voice.

****

Eggsy himself cut the front page from the Sun and taped it to Harry's wall. Harry claimed to hate it, but it never failed to make Eggsy smile. The photograph showed the two of them wet and bedraggled, caught in mid-stride as they crossed the red carpet, arms looped about each other. Eggsy was looking up at Harry, while Harry was gazing down at him with what was clearly an expression of worried affection.

The headline, though, was the real work of art.

_All Pride, No Prejudice for Mr. Darcy and His Lover_


End file.
